


The Courtship of Lady Sif

by illrain666



Category: Thor (2011), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illrain666/pseuds/illrain666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When someone not to her liking attempts to court Sif, her friends resolve to help her discourage him. And along the way, someone unexpected wins her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Loki and the Warriors Three winced in sympathy then groaned in dismay as Thor suddenly doubled over in pain, his hands carefully cradling what his younger brother often sneeringly referred to as "the Jewels of Asgard". The wielder of Mjolnir fell to his knees, tears squeezing out of his closed eyes and his face reddening as he forgot to breathe for several moments. Then he gasped as his lungs took in air once more, and he tried to roar in rage. However, what came out of his mouth was a high-pitched whimper. "You dare—!"

Lady Sif looked down at him with an expression fearsome enough to make the stoutest of hearts quail. "Oh, please!" She rolled her eyes. "I did not hit you that hard! Now, get up! We are not done sparring!"

Thor rose unsteadily. "Oh, I am very much done, my Lady!" he exclaimed. He backed several steps away from her. "What has made you so vicious today? We have all felt the sting of your vexation." He gestured towards the four young Asgardians watching them, who were all sporting various bruises and cuts. Loki looked like a pup with a bluish-black spot darkening his right eye, Hogun's left wrist bore the mark of Sif's hand where she had twisted it, Fandral had a wound on his lower lip that was still bleeding, and Volstagg's head possessed a bald spot where she had torn out a thick clump of hair. When her eyes slid to them, they all visibly gulped in sudden nervousness.

Sif sighed, the slightest tinge of remorse softening her face and her tone. "I did not mean to show my displeasure so plainly," she said, "But certain tidings made known to me have severely disturbed my thoughts."

"And what disturbs your thoughts so, Lady Sif?" Hogun wondered.

She pursed her lips, annoyance creasing her brow for a moment before she sighed again. "My brother Heimdall," she began, "told me yesterday that Snorri Sturluson has spoken to him—about me."

"And what is that flea-bitten cur saying about you now?" Thor instantly thundered. He and the others well knew of the animosity that Snorri had borne Sif since she had defeated him in a wrestling match over a month ago. The wretched boy had then gone around Asgard spreading the most outrageous lies about the young female warrior. Thor and the others had retaliated on her behalf by stealing Snorri from his bed one night, tying him up, then hoisting him atop the Palace's highest point. He had stopped gossiping about Sif afterwards, but it seemed that he was up to his old mischief once more.

"He has not been telling lies about me," Sif clarified, her cheeks oddly pink. "But what he has said to my brother is even worse than his foulest lies."

"What did he say to Heimdall, Sif?" Fandral pressed her for the truth. "Tell us, and we will cut off his tongue for you."

"Then I will cook it with wine and make him eat it," Volstagg added.

She could not help but smile at their words. Then she grew serious again as she struggled to share the news that had so perturbed her upon hearing it from Heimdall's lips. "Snorri Sturluson," she took a deep fortifying breath, "has told my brother that he—wants to court me."

Five stunned expressions greeted her revelation. Then, as one, all five broke out into huge smiles and guffaws.

"Snorri Sturluson," Thor said in between loud roars of laughter, "wants to court you? Has he gone mad?"

"Sif! Oh, my Lady!" Fandral gasped, mirth shaking every part of his body. "For a moment, I thought you meant every word you said."

Volstagg, for his part, was laughing so hard that he had to lean on Hogun for support. The other warrior, meanwhile, was pressing one hand against his mouth, trying to control the bursts of laughter that were so uncharacteristic of his usually serious mien. Even Loki, ever dour Loki, was smiling and chuckling. Sif was so taken aback by the sight of the younger Prince of Asgard looking happy that she just stared at him in fascination for countless minutes. When he realized that she had her eyes on him, he sobered and tried to regain his normal quiet manner. But his deep green eyes still sparkled with amusement as they met hers—and that was when he made his second realization: she was not jesting about Snorri's desire to court her.

He moved to Thor's side and shoved an elbow into his brother's ribs to get the other's attention. "I do believe she is serious, Thor," he then said in his careful, measured way of speaking.

Gradually, their group quieted, and the five of them regarded Sif with astonished looks. "You are not trying to be amusing?" Thor approached her warily. "You really mean what you have just told us? Snorri truly wishes to pay court to you?"

"Why do you find that so hard to believe?" she huffed, the little that she possessed of feminine vanity rising up within her breast to take offense at their incredulity.

"It is not that we do not believe anyone would ever wish to court you," Fandral tried to soothe her. "We just find the thought—odd. Very odd."

"Extremely so," Volstagg seconded, and the look Sif gave them then promised she would remember every word they spoke and make them pay for each one violently. So Loki decided to step in before the others could shorten their lives further by continuing to speak.

"My Lady Sif," he addressed her, "there is no need to be so upset about Snorri's plan to court you. He may do so if he wishes, but you can always refuse his suit." After pointing out that little fact that seemed to have slipped her mind, he fully expected her to calm down and loosen her grip on her sword. However, that did not happen.

"Of course I know I can always refuse him!" she snapped. "What I fear is that my mother may not allow me to do so! She was in transports of joy upon learning of Snorri's intentions. She thinks that having a suitor would finally cure me of the 'warrior madness' as she calls it, and I would start acting like a proper Asgardian lady. I have tried to disabuse her of this notion, but she will have none of it. She has even made Heimdall promise her that he would not forbid Snorri from courting me. What if she goes so far as to betroth me to him? I am doomed!" Fury overtaking her completely for a moment, she whirled around and threw her sword like a spear. It flew through the air and struck a nearby tree where it sunk in to the hilt. Then she stamped her feet like a child.

"Well," Thor ran a hand through his unruly hair, trying to think. "That could be a problem." The others silently agreed with him. After a minute though, his eyes lit up and he turned to Loki. "Unless—" He regarded his brother with a questioning look.

"What?" the dark-haired Prince asked. "Why are you all staring at me?"

"Yes!" Sif smiled in relief. "Loki!" She walked up to him and seized his hands in hers. "Clever Loki! You always know how to get us out of trouble—"

"Because he is the one who often gets us into trouble in the first place," muttered Fandral, but they all ignored him.

"Loki," Sif said his name again and looked at him pleadingly. "Please, use that brilliant little mind of yours to make all this go away, and I promise not to beat you at sparring anymore."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then he looked down at their entwined hands. A strange frown marked his face. "What would you have me do?" he asked. He glanced up at her again with such an intense gaze that her smile faltered for a second.

"Why, come up with one of your schemes, of course," she told him, letting go of his hands because they had suddenly felt very warm. She also realized with some discomfort that she was standing too close to him, so she took a few steps back to put some distance between them. "Help me persuade Snorri that he would be better off hating me than trying to court me, and convince my mother at the same time that she should never, ever encourage anyone to court me again."

A thoughtful expression came over Loki's face. "That would require a good bit of planning, my Lady," he said, then he smiled. "Perhaps I may be able to come up with something."

They all cheered. "Excellent!" Thor clapped his brother on the back. "You create a plan and we will help you accomplish it. This should be an interesting little intrigue for everyone." They agreed that Loki would be given a day to formulate an appropriate scheme, then they would discuss it during their next sparring session. Afterwards, they all left the practice field in high spirits, the excitement of plotting mischief quickening their steps.

oOo

Two nights later, Snorri Sturluson arrived at Sif's home to pay her a visit, bearing a gift of blossoms fashioned from fine gold and jewels. Sif, uncomfortably dressed in a gown her mother had forced her to wear, received him politely and offered him refreshments. He graciously accepted and, in between gulping drinks and consuming pastries, he expressed how much he admired her, how he regretted spreading lies about her in the past because he had not yet realized that he cared for her then, how much he wished that she would judge him worthy of her heart, and so on, until she felt quite sickened by all his gallant prattle. She was starting to fear that he would never stop talking when the door burst open and in strode Thor.

The Prince of Asgard was dressed in his most formal clothes and he beamed as his eyes raked over Sif's ladylike appearance. Then suddenly, dramatically, he fell to his knees before her. With one hand on his heart, he began to recite, "My Lady Sif, she whose beauty illuminates the darkness of night, the mere sight of your eyes causes my entire body to tremble with the fever of passion and desire. I humbly beg you, my Lady, to receive this small token of my devotion." He fumbled for something at his side until he handed her a silken bag that she took with a puzzled little frown. She opened it, looked inside, and gave a squeal of delight.

"Oh, Thor!" She batted her eyes at him coyly. "Is this truly for me?"

"It could be for no one else, my Lady," he replied.

She then turned to Snorri and held out the opened bag before him. "Oh, Snorri. Look! What a thoughtful gift from Thor!"

Her jealous suitor could not resist looking into the bag. He wanted to find out what it was that Thor had given Sif which had pleased her more than his gift. As soon as he peered into the opening, something dark and hairy leapt out and latched onto his face.

"Aaarrggggh!" He screamed in both terror and surprise as he tried to free himself from the grip of the overly large spider that was now hugging his face tightly. "Get it off me! Get it off!"

Laughing, Thor grabbed the spider away and gave it to Sif, who put it on her lap and began to pet it like a cat. She pouted at Snorri. "Whatever is the matter?" she cooed. "Is it not a darling little pet?"

Snorri, who was quite well-known for having a deadly fear of spiders, could only stare at her in horror, white-lipped. He looked like he wanted to say something to her but, before he could open his mouth, in walked Fandral.

"Lady Sif!" The swordsman bowed before her. "Never in all the Realms have I beheld a maiden lovelier than you. Your beauty shames the light of the stars. Allow me to express how much I adore you by presenting this lowly gift at your feet." He placed what appeared to be a belt of leather on the floor, then it moved and hissed, and what was actually a snake quickly wrapped its coils around Snorri's right leg.

"Gyyaaahhhh!" He screamed again and began hopping up and down. "It's trying to swallow my leg! Help me! Help!" Fandral, chuckling all the while, somehow managed to extricate the snake in spite of Snorri's constant movements and gave it to Sif, who wrapped it around her throat like a necklace.

By this time, Snorri was ready to bolt from the room. But he managed to gather the shreds of his pride about him and sit down again. At a considerable distance from Sif. This left room for Thor and Fandral to sit on her right and her left side, respectively, where they both looked at him with evil little grins.

Then Volstagg and Hogun appeared. They were carrying a large chest between them that rocked unsteadily in their grip as something inside it snarled and thumped against its iron prison. Snorri jumped. "Nay! I will have no more of this foolishness!" he hissed. He pointed a finger at Sif. "I know not how you divined my intentions behind the game I was trying to play, my Lady, but I am not going to let you and your oafish friends humiliate me any further!" He started to make his way to the door, but his path was suddenly blocked by Sif's mother, who had decided to come in and see if her daughter was treating her visitor well.

"Snorri!" Her smile of welcome withered at the look of venom he threw at her. "What is happening here?" she inquired of her daughter, who had the most innocent expression on her face.

"You have my sympathies, my Lady," he told her. "Your House has been cursed by a daughter that no man in his proper faculties would wish to court, let alone wed. She is a disgrace to the memory of her ancestors and I can only pity you for birthing her from your womb—"

He would have spewed out more vitriol but for the fact that he was suddenly silenced by a knife against his throat. Sif's mother never lost the pleasant expression on her face and her voice never faltered as she said very politely, "Thank you for visiting us, Lord Sturluson. Now if you would please leave and never come back, I would be very grateful." Pale-faced, Snorri nodded and quickly scampered away. She then looked at her daughter and the group of young men gathered protectively around her. "Perhaps, next time," she said softly, "I will not allow any suitors to visit you after all, Sif." She gave Thor a little bow, then left.

After a moment of stunned silence, Sif started to laugh. Soon, her friends joined in her mirth. "That worked brilliantly!" Thor exclaimed. "Loki would be pleased." He looked at Volstagg and Hogun. "Why did he not come with you?"

Hogun shrugged. Still laughing, Sif decided to search for the one that had crafted such a fine bit of mischief as soon as she could and thank him for his help.

oOo

She found him in the Palace library's farthest corner later that evening, reading a dusty old tome. He did not look up when she stood before him and asked, "How did you know?"

"How did I know what?" he replied lazily and flipped a page, his eyes never leaving the book.

"That Snorri was planning to humiliate me in some way by pretending to court me." She sat across from him. "Tell me. How did you know that he had a malicious motive behind his actions?"

He finally looked at her, and his expression clearly said that she was foolish for not realizing what should be so painfully obvious. "Sif," he pointed out patiently, "The man hates you so much that he once tried to cut off all your hair. Whatever made you think that such hatred could have somehow magically transformed to love?"

His words struck her deeply and, for a moment, an expression of hurt was evident on her face before she carefully blanked out her countenance once more. She stood up and seemed like she was going to leave, then she sat down again. "Loki," there was a catch in her tone, "what do you see when you look at me?"

He frowned in puzzlement. "I see you."

"And who am I?" she persisted.

"You are who you are," he said slowly. "Sif, one of the most fearsome warriors of Asgard."

"Nothing more?" she wondered. If he, ostensibly the cleverest in their group, did not understand what she was trying to express, then she despaired of ever finding anyone who could comprehend her. Suddenly, she could no longer hold back the words. "I am also a maiden, Loki!" she burst out. "I may enjoy sparring with swords more than flirting, but that does not mean that I do not sometimes wish a man would look at me and see that I may possibly be desirable! And when Snorri claimed to wish to court me, well—" She was now too embarrassed to complete her thoughts.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he blinked. "Oh." Understanding seemed to have dawned on him at last. "Sif." For the first time she could remember since they were children, he sounded awkward and uncertain. "Sif, I am confident that one day, there will be such a man who would look at you and desire you." He meant every word, and her heart warmed. "I can only hope, though, that once you realize the fact that he adores you," he continued, "you would take pity on the poor man and not torment him needlessly."

She scoffed. "Of course I would not do such a thing!"

His lips twisted in a little smile. "Well, we shall see soon enough, I think," he commented, quite oddly in her opinion. But, for the moment, she was pleased that he had not laughed at her upon knowing of her secret hopes. Impulsively, she leaned across the table and gave him a light kiss that landed on the curve of his left cheek. He seemed to freeze at the touch of her lips, then his entire face became suffused with color.

A different sort of embarrassment came over her then, and she blushed as well. "Loki," she wondered why her voice suddenly sounded breathless, "I do believe you are the dearest one among my friends right now. Thank you. For everything."

He nodded. "I am ever at your service, Lady Sif."

Their gazes locked—and it seemed it was an effort on both their parts to look away. "Well, then." She rose. "I will leave you now to your books. I shall see you tomorrow, I hope. Goodnight, Loki."

He did not return her greeting, but she felt his eyes follow her until she finally disappeared from sight.


	2. The Courtship of Lady Sif

Sif cursed furiously underneath her breath as she fiddled with the richly bejeweled clasp that adorned as well as held up the fine gold cloth of the skirt she was wearing. For some reason, her mother had sought to humiliate her by making her wear the most indecent clothes she had ever laid eyes on for the masked ball that Asgard's Royal Family was hosting. The clasp was the only thing that spared her from complete wantonness since it kept her skirt from unraveling around her and pooling at her feet. But that particular concern considerably paled in significance to the fact that the amber-hued fabric of her blouse was so sheer that the curves and hollows of her upper body were clearly outlined. Only the presence of an ornate necklace that wrapped high around her neck then trailed down to her belly in a cascade of golden, gem-studded links afforded her the small comfort of knowing that her breasts would not be completely exposed to the gazes of the other guests. Though she had never been shy about her body before, and the friends she often ran around to have adventures with had certainly seen her bare limbs numerous times, the present circumstances made her unaccountably nervous about people's reactions to her altered appearance.

Thor, the big oaf, would undoubtedly laugh at how ridiculously feminine she looked and make the most infuriating jokes about dainty Asgardian maidens who could not aim straight at the huge bulk of a dragon even if their lives depended on it, of that she was certain. Fandral would most likely smirk in that knowing way of his that he thought made him look worldy-wise and try to twirl the pathetic excuse of a mustache that he had been attempting to grow over the past year. Hogun's usual reticence would certainly become more pronounced than ever, though he would no doubt excuse himself from time to time for some unspecified purpose, only to return with a suspiciously amused expression in his dark eyes that revealed he had probably been laughing himself into a fit in some quiet corner. Volstagg would stammer and bluster, then eat something to keep his mouth from saying words that would undoubtedly turn all their faces and ears red with embarrassment since he could not be relied on to speak with any sense once he was confronted by the sight of anything female, even if it was only Sif in lady-like garb. Loki—she frowned at the thought of his eyes sliding over her in her dress, irritated at how disturbing she found the idea—he would definitely have the worst reaction. The younger Prince of Asgard had a manner about him that never failed to make her feel as if he thought she was the most foolish and laughable being he had ever seen. In fact, ever since he had helped unmask Snorri Sturluson's underhanded motives for attempting to court her, he had quickly used up the good will he had earned during that event by playing the most mean-spirited prank.

Somehow, and her blood never failed to boil upon her remembrance of this particular piece of mischief, he had crept into her room one night and snipped off a good portion of her hair. She had been enraged upon discovering his handiwork in the morning, though at that time she had not suspected him of it. Rather, she had thought that Snorri had done the deed. So she had charged at the hapless boy and had almost beaten him to a pathetic pulp when Loki had nonchalantly appeared bearing the coiled braid of her missing hair. He had admitted to his guilt quite cheerfully and actually seemed to expect her to be amused by his cleverness. He had clearly thought that it was all a fine joke. Sif had been so furious that she felt she could have turned into a berserker in that instant. Then her feelings of hurt and betrayal had crushed her, disbelieving yet not being able to deny the fact that a friend had treated her so poorly, and she had given him a sound slap that wiped off his smile then walked away without a word. Afterwards, she had locked herself in her room for two days and cried with a strange pain that she could not fully define at this evidence of Loki's lack of concern for her.

He had apologized for what he had done, of course, no doubt at the coercion of his parents and their mutual friends. He had even gone so far as to seek the assistance of Svartalfheim's most brilliant magicians at creating a potion that would restore her hair to its full length quickly. When he had come to see her, she had refused to receive him in her home, but her mother had taken his offered potion and administered it to her. So, when she appeared in the practice field the next day, she had a full head of long hair once more. But her eyes had stubbornly refused to meet his, no matter what he did to call attention to himself, and their old friendship had not been repaired.

So, understandably, between her discomfort at being made to wear feminine clothing befitting her high-born station and the anger and hurt that still simmered within her whenever she saw or thought of Loki, Sif was assuredly not looking forward to attending the ball at the Royal Palace. She was formulating her eighth plan for escaping this dreary social obligation when her mother bustled into her room, looking like an exotic bird with beautiful plummage in a colorful gown of silk. In her hands, she bore two masks made of metal and jewels. When she saw the mutinous look on her daughter's face, she pursed her lips as a reproachful expression came over her countenance.

"Sif, my darling, must you slouch so?" she said in a soft, scolding tone. "And, please, do stop fussing with that clasp or it will take forever once more to arrange your skirt in that manner." She handed one of the masks to the younger woman. "Here. This one is for you. It is a perfect complement to what you are wearing."

Sif accepted the object from her mother's hands reluctantly and studied its appearance in the glow that illuminated her room. The mask was of such fine craftsmanship that she was certain it must have cost a considerable amount of coins. Once worn, it would only cover the upper portion of her face with an elaborate mesh of gold that had been shaped to resemble a butterfly. Emeralds and sapphires were set along the latticework that formed the wings, and the gems glittered with bright fire as she idly turned the mask this way and that to catch the light. "It is quite lovely," she murmured in surprise, and her mother beamed in pleasure.

"Oh, indeed," she agreed. "I am pleased that you like it. Now, put it on."

Sif easily complied with this request and, soon, she had arranged the mask carefully so that it would be a firm yet comfortable fit for her. When her mother beheld her in her full masquerade garb, the woman was so delighted that she clapped her hands. "Oh, you look absolutely fetching! No one in Asgard would recognize such a divine creature as my reckless little warrior!" She studied Sif from all possible angles, looking extremely pleased with her handiwork. "You have grown into such a lovely young lady, darling Sif," she spoke with the deepest affection suffusing her voice. "I know I very rarely say this, but you make me so proud." Suddenly, tears sprang to her eyes. "I wish your father could have been here to see how beautiful you have become."

"Oh, Mother." Sif felt melancholic all of a sudden, her heart beating painfully at the memory of the father that she had lost at so young an age. She enfolded her sole remaining parent in her arms and the two of them held each other close for several moments. "Thank you," she whispered, "for always trying to do right by me. I know I have not exactly been the perfect daughter you wanted, what with my desire to be a warrior instead of a proper lady, but you have never made me feel like you loved me less." Smiling, she kissed her mother reverently on her cheeks and then her forehead. "And I promise that tonight, I will behave as you would wish me to and bring honor to your name."

Her mother laughed lightly. "Oh, there is no need for you to pretend that you like the idea of attending this ball," she gently chided. "But, at least, promise me you will try to have an enjoyable time. Stay by the side of your friends and let one of those handsome fellows squire you about."

She wrinkled her nose at her mother's description of her friends and comrades at arms as being handsome. "If I know Thor and the others, they will be too busy making prats of themselves over Freya, Sigyn, and Idunn to even be aware of my company," she predicted. "I swear, they have all become quite insufferable once they have started taking an interest in the girls that come to watch our sparring sessions. Thor is often too distracted to give me a good fight, Fandral is too busy making eyes at our spectators to look at where he is pointing his sword, and Hogun and Volstagg would instantly stop fighting and shuffle their feet nervously whenever someone female cheers for them. It is all quite aggravating."

"And what of Loki?" her mother asked in a deceptively casual tone. "How does he act in the presence of these girls?"

Sif scowled. "I do not know. I hardly notice him these days," she replied stiffly.

Discerning that her question had caused Sif's temper to sour, the older woman quickly announced that they must complete all their preparations at once so that they may depart for the ball. In a short while, they were both ready, and they found Heimdall waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. He was clad in his usual golden armor, but his stern face broke out into a rare smile of pleasure when he beheld his stepmother and his half-sister. "The ladies of the House of Tyr are true jewels that are beyond comparison," he complimented them gallantly as he bowed. "I am honored to have been given the privilege of escorting such beauty tonight."

"Oh, Heimdall," Sif's mother replied, "it is we who are honored by your company. Your sister and I so rarely see you these days as you are always too busy going about the All-Father's business. I am glad therefore that you were given leave to enjoy yourself and attend this masquerade tonight." She placed a gloved hand on his right arm while Sif took up her place on his left, and he then ushered them out of the house to where their carriage waited.

The journey to the Palace was short and, by the time they arrived in the Great Hall, Sif had managed to curb her feelings of discomfort and present a semblance of enthusiasm for the evening's festivities. Once she entered through the massive golden doors of the hall, her eyes immediately swept over the room, searching for her companions. Thor and Volstagg were the easiest to recognize in the crowd due to the fact that they towered over most of the revelers and she would know the color and texture of their hair no matter what enchantment they may have employed to tame their locks for the occasion. She wended her way through the throng of other guests, dreading the moment when her friends would make out her familiar form beneath the unusual feminine clothing she was wearing. She was only a few feet away from them when one of their group turned and laid eyes on her. His head was covered by his robe's cowl, so she could not guess who he was by the shade of his hair, but the emerald eyes that gazed at her intensely from behind a silver mask left her with no doubt of his identity. It was Loki who had somehow sensed her arrival, and she immediately stiffened.

"Lady Sif," he greeted her and inclined his head in a little bow. It was then that the others realized that she was in their midst and they all turned to welcome her. But the words of greeting died on the young men's lips when they beheld her clearly. For what seemed like an inordinately long time, they merely stared at her. She had expected them to laugh at her appearance and make fun of how silly she looked. She had never imagined that they would look upon her with the same flabbergasted expressions they normally wore whenever a young Asgardian female of passing attractiveness attempted to flirt with them.

She huffed. "Would you please stop staring at me as if I have grown two dragon heads? You all look quite comical with your mouths hanging open."

Fandral was the first one to recover. "My Lady Sif," he bowed to her with a flourish. "You are ravishing this evening."

She rolled her eyes. "Please spare me from your lechery, Fandral. And, everyone, could we just act normally? Yes, I am dressed as a lady. Now let us all have a laugh about it and talk about something else." She was becoming very uncomfortable being the subject of their scrutiny. Not for the first time, she wished she had not allowed her mother to dress her for the ball.

Thor, finally realizing how self-conscious she was feeling, decided to come to her rescue and distract everyone. "Why don't we all have some wine to celebrate being among friends?" He signaled to a servant, who appeared a moment later with a tray bearing goblets for all. They each took one and held the goblets aloft for a toast. "To friends!" said Thor. "And a wonderful evening of merriment!" They echoed his words and drained their goblets dry, and the initial awkwardness over Sif's appearance passed soon thereafter. In a few moments, they were laughing together as they poked fun at the silly behavior of guests who had imbibed more of Odin's excellent wine and mead than was good for them. Sif also lost her embarrassment and eventually started to enjoy herself. She even consented to dance with Fandral and Hogun and a few other young men who asked her.

As the evening wore on, her friends disappeared from her side one by one. She noted with some amusement the boyish grin on Thor's flushed face as he was led away by a stunning Idunn. Fandral, in his turn, was quick to respond to Freya's beckoning hand. Volstagg followed after Sjofna like an obedient pup when she whispered an invitation in his ear. And Hogun earned several stares of envy from other men when two Valkyries lured him away to a dark corner. It was then with a jolt of unease that she eventually realized that she had been left alone in the company of Loki.

He stared at her without speaking for a long moment, looking like he was carefully gauging her mood. Then, "Would you dance with me?" he asked quite unexpectedly.

She lifted startled eyes to his face. The mask concealed his expression, but his eyes had an intensity that she found strange yet compelling. If she did not know him quite well, she would have said that it seemed like he was nervous. But she still had not forgiven him for his transgression, so she looked at him coldly and replied, "No. I would not." She turned to walk away from him, but his hand was quick to grab and hold on to her arm. The air between the two of them became charged with more tension as their gazes locked—hers furious, his earnest.

"Please," he said softly.

His hand seemed to burn against her skin. She frowned as she thought how odd it was for him to be touching her outside of the sparring sessions they used to have before she had started ignoring him. Oh, how she dearly wanted to free herself from his grasp and push him away, but something within her made her hesitate. Yes, he had hurt her with his prank. But he had played numerous other tricks on her while they were growing up, some even more cruel than cutting off her hair. She had always retaliated by hitting him viciously, then they had been friends again. This time, though, circumstances were different. She could not adequately explain how exactly they were different, not even to herself, but she knew it had to do with the fact that they were no longer children. She had changed, and he had changed as well, she could tell. So why were they still taking refuge in childish antics and games?

Slowly, she nodded. "All right then," she told him. Without another word, she allowed him to lead her in a dance. They did not speak as they moved through the motions together, and she was keenly aware that his body—normally so cool even in the stress of battle—felt oddly feverish as he held her close. And when, after what seemed an eternity of dancing, he took her by the hand and led her away to a shadowed corner, she followed him and watched silently as he took off his mask. She took off her mask as well, and she closed her eyes as he leaned towards her and placed a kiss upon her shoulder.

And when his lips claimed hers, so too did he claim her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept listening to Madi Diaz's "Let's Go" while I was writing this because I thought it was just perfect for all those moments when Sif and Loki were interacting with each other, especially during the last scene.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to add anything anymore to this story since it was complete as far as I was concerned. But I got such a good response to it that I thought I'd put something together as a thank you to everyone. So, here it is: young Sif and Loki being silly in love. Enjoy.

Keeping his face expressionless was proving to be a serious strain, but Loki was determined that he would not give his tormentor the satisfaction of knowing that he was disturbed. Especially since the tormentor happened to be the most aggravating young female in Asgard. So he kept his hands steady and his eyes focused as he held the heavy tome on advanced magicks before him, doing his best to ignore Sif's obvious ploys for attention.

For her part, Sif was having tremendous fun trying to distract the dark-haired prince from his studies. In the past half-hour alone, she had drummed her fingers on the table, tapped her feet on the floor, rocked her chair back and forth, hummed off-key, and polished her knives as noisily as she could. She had watched Loki keenly all throughout her antics, and she had noted with some satisfaction that his impassive mask had cracked somewhat because he was now subtly biting his lips to keep his mouth shut. But, still, he was not paying any attention to her, so it was apparent that desperate measures had to be taken.

So, with a dramatic intake of breath, she opened the small volume she had carefully selected from one of the farthest corners of the library and began to read out loud. "Vidar's hands trembled as he slowly reached out to fondle Gefjon's bosom. Reverently, he bent his head to kiss the rosebud tips of her milk-white breasts—"

Loki closed his book with a snap and glared at Sif. "What in the Nine Realms do you think you are doing?" he demanded.

She noticed that his cheeks were the faintest shade of pink. Sif gave him her most innocent, wide-eyed look and smiled prettily. "I was merely amusing myself while you were intent on your magical learning. Forgive me. I did not mean to distract you."

His eyes narrowed. He was too good of a liar himself that he could easily detect the falsehood in her words. After about a minute of subjecting her to the most disapproving expression he could manage, he finally sighed and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "All right then." He now turned the full force of his attention to her. "You have been fidgeting in your chair since the moment we sat down. What seems to be troubling your mind?"

She just gazed at him with one raised eyebrow.

Loki was a clever fellow. Everyone in Asgard was aware of that fact, especially since he always made an effort to remind all those who knew him of it. But there were certain things that not even his famous cleverness could help him to figure out easily; for instance, young female Asgardians with an unhealthy love of sharp objects who were also, oddly enough, very fond of him. No. In Sif's case, he could say with total confidence that she was more than fond of him. At least, he hoped so anyway.

He knew it was a blow to his carefully maintained reputation of being a silver-tongued know-it-all, but he had to ask, "What? What did I do this time that has clearly upset you in some fashion since you are being quite impossible to talk to?"

After a lengthy tense silence that saw the two of them glaring at each other, Sif finally let out an exasperated sigh. "You really do not know?" she demanded.

"Sif, when it comes to you, I have since become accustomed to the feeling of turning into some sort of idiot whenever it suits you for your amusement," he admitted wryly. "Now, tell me what is the matter?"

She huffed and threw her hands up in despair. "Honestly, Loki Odinson, you must be the only person in all of Asgard who actually means it when he invites a girl to the library to study." She gave him a disgusted look that let him know in no uncertain terms that she thought he was a fool.

And, suddenly, it all became clear to him. "Oh," he said, and blushed.

Sif smirked at him.

It took a while, but he eventually recovered from his discomfiture. Then he put his books aside and they both forgot about studying.


End file.
